I Am Me

Today—

dreams in my head,

walls in my mind,

walls upon walls,

to the war, war, war inside me,

to desires once held,

to days I long for,

to the crowds I wish I belonged to,

to the crowds I wish I didn’t.

Stepping out in my own version,

yet entangled in society’s mold of me.

Fear—of living up to expectations.

Fear—of being wanted for what I can give.

Fear—of not giving enough.

Fear—of being denied love.

To the love I have for myself,

to the hatred I carry within,

to the selfishness, the wickedness,

the kindness, the love,

the purity, the filth,

the bad, the good,

everything that makes me special,

everything that makes me ordinary.

To pain and joy,

to strength and weakness,

to acceptance and denial,

to truth and lies,

to right and wrong—

every paradox that shapes me.

I have learned—

I am wicked to those who call me wicked.

I am impure in the eyes of those who see me impure.

I am only the version that exists for me.

So I stopped carrying

the weight of people's versions of me.

I stopped caring.

I became the villain—

if that’s the role you cast me in.

I became the angel—

if that’s the name you whisper.

I am what I am,

and nothing will change that.

They say reputation is gold,

yet we build it so high,

we cage ourselves inside.

But I refuse.

I will not shrink for your comfort.

I will not silence myself for your peace.

If my truth irritates your demons,

then let them rage.

I am who I am.

You are who you are.

Whatever story you write of me,

I do not own it.

If I linger in your mind,

if my name crosses your lips,

then it is you who carries me, not I.

Friend or foe,

truth or illusion,

your presence in my life is a lesson,

but never my definition.

I am bad.

I am good.

I am filth.

I am pure.

I am royalty.

I am a servant.

I am a dreamer.

I am a doer.

I am the lucky one,

the beloved one,

the chosen one.

And no force in this world

can rewrite who I am.

I am me

Susan Khasoa